


What Goes Bump in the Night

by WaywardSister



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Bunker, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, SPN - Freeform, kidnap, secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardSister/pseuds/WaywardSister
Summary: SARAH L.What Goes Bump In The NightSummary:You live a simple life with your Aunt and Uncle after a tragic car accident took your mother and father when you were almost too young to remember it.  You live just like every other teen until one fatal day flips your whole life and what you thought you knew upside-down. After being rescued by hunters Sam and Dean Winchester, you battle internal struggles and fight to stay alive as the true reality of what is really out there reveals itself to you... and how you are related to it. This 17,000 word fanfiction describes another day in the life of a Winchester—except this time, it’s through your eyes. Describing discovering yourself as a person, forming a relationship with the brothers from the hit series Supernatural, and facing death itself, my fanfiction’s goal is to bring you through an original version of another Supernatural episode, and to give you the glimpse into the life of a hunter.





	What Goes Bump in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to check out my work! I put a lot of effort into it and I hope you enjoy it just as much as I enjoyed writing it!

_You are fourteen years old, turning fifteen soon. You have an average build, thin but not too thin. Standing 5’4’’ tall, you take on the beginning curves of a woman’s body. Your hair is a chocolate brown that falls in waves down to the middle of your ribs. You have lightly tanner skin thanks to your African father, and bright blue eyes that stands out from all your other features. A splatter of freckles you hate reside on your cheeks, accompanied by high-ish cheekbones and on-point eyebrows._

 

**YOUR POV**

**PART I**

 

“Okay, okay, fine. Yes, he’s kind of cute.” You roll your eyes, leaning your body to playfully bump your best friend.

 

“Um, no, he’s not ‘cute’. He’s _hot._ And he’s totally into you!” Laura beams, her blonde and short but tight curls bouncing to match her enthusiasm. You shake your head, although you can’t help the little rush of heat that spreads to your cheeks at the thought. You reach your locker and quickly trade out your books for the next class while listening to her rambles, hopping from one topic to the next in rapid succession. You love her and have loved her since the third grade, but even you can grow tired of her constant state of bubbliness. The first bell rings and you both start down the hallway to make it to class.

 

“Biology next, right?” she asks. “You know what that means.” She winks and turns in the direction of her own class, leaving you exasperated and rolling your eyes once again. The warning bell sends you out of your daze and you hurry into the classroom just as the remaining students file in. Noticing he isn’t there yet, you start mentally preparing yourself for acting like a normal human being when you realize that the teacher is standing right by your desk. You look up at him expectantly.      

 

“Miss (y/n), your Aunt is in the office waiting for you. I just got a call. You’ll be heading home for the day”, he says with a polite smile. You nod and scoop up your books to your chest, relieved you don’t have to make a fool of yourself to _him,_ but confused at the sudden change of plans. _Why is Aunt Alison picking me up so early? Is something wrong?_ As soon as you reach the office you’re greeted by your Aunt, a short plump woman with lines on her face making her appear much older than she really is. She stands up immediately and regards you with a tight, thin-lipped smile. You nod a hello, slinging your backpack on your shoulder ready to go, but you know something is wrong. She’s too rigid. Her smile is too forced. She doesn’t say anything despite your continuous questions. You finally get the hint and fall silent. Not one word is uttered the entire ride home.   

 

Home isn’t really home. Not exactly. You still have memories of the little blue house with your mother and father, their smiles and laughter always filling the room. They died in a car accident when you were five or six years old. At least, that’s what Aunt Alison and Uncle Rob always told you.  Died on impact, they said. And so you were torn from your happy life in Oregon and thrown in a small town in the middle of Nebraska, of all places, with your Aunt and Uncle, the only family you had left. It’s not that you don’t love them. They’re kind and goofy and do their best to make you comfortable. But they just aren’t Mom and Dad. And you never fit in on top of that. The only person you can stand is Laura, not that there is many friend choices in the tiny school, anyways. You carefully look at your Aunt’s tight face, waiting for an explanation. After what seems like an eternity, she slowly turns to you and gives you a small smile.      

 

“Nothing is wrong, sweetie. It’s just… your Uncle and I need to have a little conversation with you. That’s all.” And with that she tersely steps out of the car and scurries inside. You sigh and follow behind her, worried about what kind of trouble you got yourself into. You were never the type to get into mischief, but something as small as not cleaning your room could draw out an entire lecture from your guardians. The minute you step inside you feel something is off. Very, very off. There is something in the air. Immediately you tense and look to your Aunt for direction, who has her eyes narrowed. She turns to you and gets eye level with you, her expression full of grief and fear.

 

“Aunt Alison…w-what’s going—”

 

“Shhh, sweetie. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be alright.” By the way she’s trembling it seems like she’s trying to convince herself more than she is you.       

 

“You’re just going to have to trust me, okay? There are things… things you don’t know. Things we’ve been hiding from you. Oh, I love you. I love you so much…” Panic and confusion is coursing through you. She’s not making any sense. _What the hell is going on?_ Suddenly, a crash echoes from the backyard. You both jump, and she quickly hugs you before continuing, her voice now deadly serious. You’ve never seen her this way before.

 

“I can’t believe this. We’re… we’re too late. (Y/n), listen to me. Go into your room. Hide. And whatever you hear, whatever happens, do _not_ come out.” There are so many questions running through your mind and so much muddled fear, but the ominous instruction and tone of Alison’s voice sends you flying straight up the stairs without another word. You don’t know what is happening. You don’t know where Uncle Rob is, or what the crashing noise from outside was. All you know is you will obey them, whatever the reason may be. Despite the panic, you feel numb from the shock and adrenaline running through your veins that leave little room for anything else.

 

You slam your bedroom door and lock it, thinking to drag your desk in the front of it as well just in case, your belongings toppling off of it in the process. Looking frantically around the room, you decide to shove yourself in the little closet with your clothes and shoes, sliding the door shut behind you. The shutters are closed in a way that lets you see into your room, but no one can see in. Now immobilized, the panic truly sets in, and you begin to tremble. Thoughts are whirring through your mind at a hundred miles per hour, and you can’t make sense of any of it. Suddenly, you get the idea to grab your phone. You can call the police and let them handle whatever is going on. You eye your backpack several feet away at the foot of your bed, contemplating leaving the safety of the closet. Before you get the chance to make a move, it happens. Everything else happens so fast. So fast.

 

Another crash and a blood curdling scream. Then there is sickening laughter of a woman, and frantic pleas of another. Something gets busted in; the front door from what it sounds like. Multiple sets of heavy footsteps run up the stairs, drowning out the commotion below. The thuds stop right outside your door. Silence. Your desk is then blown across the room by an unseen force with a deafening bang, and the door goes up in splinters. A scream gets caught in your throat as two people enter your room, stepping over the debris. _Mom?_ No… it can’t be. And right behind her, your father. They are both different. Horrifyingly different. Pale with glowing eyes, drenched in blood…and…their teeth. A mouth full of fangs, and they’re smiling, they’re smelling the air, they’re… they’re looking for—

 

“Oh, (y/n)… we know you’re here! Did you miss us, honey? We can smell you…”And in an instant, both of their heads are rolling on the floor, their bodies collapsing, and the room is filled with two new strangers holding bloodied knives. You are completely paralyzed in fear, unable to move, unable to think. You can’t breathe. All you can do is stare at the two men, at the two bodies crumpled on the floor. The two bodies… your parents. Dead. But they already are dead. They died six years ago. The blood, the teeth, and—           

 

“Is that the last of them in here?”

 

“Yeah, I think so. I still can’t figure out why they chose this house to attack, though. And why they tried turning those two people instead of just killing them. None of it adds up.”

 

“Who cares? They’re dead, and I’m hungry.”

 

“Dude. You’re covered in vamp blood and you’re _hungry_? What the hell is wrong with you?” Reality comes crashing down and snaps you out of your shock. You watch the two intruders in horror, the stench of death filling your lungs. Your breath hitches, and they tense. Immediately you are frozen again and a new wave of fear washes over you.

 

“Hey, Dean,” one of them begins cautiously, “was it just me, or were those two vamps looking for somebody when they came in this room?” The one called Dean’s face hardens, and he tightens his grip on his blade.

 

“I think you’re right, Sammy.” The two quickly dart their eyes across the room. The tall one’s gaze settles on the closet, your closet, and you stare back in horror. He motions to his partner, and they slowly approach the door, weapons raised. You ball up your fists and say a quick prayer, bracing for death.  The door swings open and you yell, throwing your hands up to protect yourself.

 

“Damnit, Sam, it’s just a kid.” Your eyes are clenched shut, your body tense and ready for the pain sure to follow. But nothing happens. Slowly, you open your eyes to find two pairs staring back at you. Their blades are lowered, though not fully sheathed, and they seem to be analyzing you.

 

“P-please don’t hurt me,” you whisper pitifully. Their gazes immediately soften as they give each other a knowing glance. The taller one takes a step towards you and you shrink further back into the closet, stumbling on a pair of boots. He puts his hands out reassuringly, his eyes widening.

 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We aren’t going to hurt you, I promise. My name is Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean.” He gestures towards the other man, who doesn’t seem nearly as inviting. The blood splatter on his face and clothes doesn’t help at all. You stare blankly at them, your bottom lip trembling.        

 

“What the _hell_ is going on?” Your cracking voice and tear-filled eyes betray your attempt at a firm and brave remark. The brothers seem to relax more completely, and they make room for you to get out of the closet. Keeping your eyes warily on them, you start climbing out when you step in something warm and wet. Blood. You look down once again at the sight of your parents’ heads staring blankly back, showing off a mouth of inhuman fangs. You’re so drained and in shock that you can’t properly react to the sight.

 

“Those… those are my parents,” you say numbly, staring down at them. You look up at the two men. “They died in a car accident when I was nine years old.” They share a look and Dean shakes his head, sighing.

 

“Looks like there’s more to this case than we thought.” Sam, however, still has his focus entirely on you. He glares up at Dean, who finally seems to get the hint, and they start backing their way out of the bedroom.

 

“Look, kid. I’m sorry, this must be hard.” You barely even hear Dean’s pitiful attempt at consoling you. You’re still staring at your mom, or what’s left of her. She used to be so beautiful. You don’t understand why she’s so terrifying. Sam scrunches his brows and turns to you.

 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here. We’re going to explain everything to you. We’re going to get you somewhere safe.” _Safe._ The word rings in your ears. The idea feels foreign to you.

 

“We better leave now, just in case any more blood suckers decide to join the party,” Dean grimly chimes in. You’re incapable of emotion. You feel your legs start to go down the steps of the familiar house, but you’re barely even aware. The boys lead you outside, away from the house, away from the smell of fear and death, away from your crumbling world and everything you thought you knew. Despite everything, the numbness and shock takes over you, and you fall asleep as soon as you fall into the strangers’ backseat.

 

:~:~:~:

 

You slowly awake to the soft rumble and movement of a car. A song plays quietly, and you smile to yourself, eyes still closed. It has a nice beat. Catchy. But it’s not something Aunt Alison would ever play; it’s too harsh, too rough. The feeling of the car doesn’t seem right either. The cushions are too firm and the arch is too straight and… suddenly a flood of memories comes rushing back to you. Your Aunt instructing to you hide. Your parents, there and alive, but with fangs and evil… their heads on the floor, and the blood, so much blood. You going downstairs to find your Aunt and Uncle, your only family left, dead on the floor, heads gone. More bodies. More heads. More blood. And going outside with two… you gasp, jumping up in your seat and wildly looking around. This isn’t the old green Volkswagen. And that isn’t your Aunt in the front seat.

 

“Where am I? Where am I?” you yell, thrashing against the seatbelt and desperately trying to gain your bearings. Immediately the car slows down and the man in the passenger seat whirls around.

 

“It’s alright, it’s alright, we’re not going to hurt you, remember? We’re here to help you! We’re just going to find a little restaurant or something to talk, that’s all. You had fallen asleep right when we got in the car. We didn’t want to wake you,” he says. You nod breathlessly, full of doubt and mistrust. Slowly but surely you even your breaths and ease back down in the seat. You want—no, you _need_ — to ask these strangers a million questions, but your mind won’t slow down enough to say a word. Dean meets your eyes in the rear-view mirror.

 

“It’s okay kid, we’re almost there. Can you tell us your name?” You contemplate the question and deem it safe to answer.

 

“It’s… it’s (y/n). (Y/n) (y/l/n),” you reply carefully. The two nod and give you sympathetic smiles as they pull into the parking lot of a small café you recognize. It was about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes away from your house. They climb out of the car and Sam opens your door for you, giving a reassuring smile. It’s when you get out and stand up that you realize how intimidatingly tall he is; he towers a full twelve inches over you. It doesn’t do much to calm your nerves about the strangers. Nevertheless, you follow them into the café and allow them to order you a hot chocolate. You take a seat in one of the corner booths with them across from you, and you feel a wave of shyness and anxiety come over you. They both hold a cup of coffee, and you can’t help but wonder how many lives those in big, calloused hands have taken. You take a gulp of your drink and look up at them sheepishly. The tall one—right, Sam is his name—nods towards you encouragingly and you take a deep breath.

 

“So, it’s (y/n), right? “Dean asks. You nod. “We understand that what you have just gone through is extremely difficult, and—“   

 

“I’m not sure what it even is that I just went through,” you say with a shaky laugh. Dean signals Sam who immediately gazes intently at you.

 

“(Y/n)…those people in your house this afternoon… they weren’t really people. They were…”

 

“Vampires,” Dean finishes. You open your mouth to object, to clarify that monsters aren’t real, but then it comes back to you. The hollowed, dead look of your mother and father when they entered your room flashes in your mind. You recall their glowing eyes and the fangs that protruded from their mouths. You have to be insane… don’t you? You peer at the two men cautiously.

 

“Vampires are real...” You mutter just above a whisper, unable to accept it.

 

“And werewolves. There are also witches, and wendigos, and Djinn. What else? Ghouls, skinwalkers, ghosts, poltergeists. Oh, shapeshifters, too. Heh, we’ve had quite the experiences with those sons of bitches.” Dean shakes his head and snickers into his drink. Sam, however, glares viciously at his brother.

 

“So much for breaking it to her _nicely_ ,” Sam snarls. Dean shrugs apologetically and the two continue to bicker while you try to process everything in your mind. These men are crazy. They’re psychopaths, they have to be. But you know what you saw... You clear your throat and the two fall silent, mumbling apologies.

 

“So,” you begin carefully, “Monsters are real. And ghosts from horror movies. It’s all real.” Saying this absurd idea out loud sounds wrong coming from your lips. “And you two, you’re some kind of ghost busters?” You raise an eyebrow.          

 

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Sam chuckles lightly. You flip every idea in your mind, trying to make sense of it all.

 

“Why did they come after me, and how are my parents…” You trail off, unsure. Sam and Dean exchange a look, something they seem to do quite often. It’s as if they have some sort of secret language, a connection only they can understand. Sam leans forward.

 

“That’s actually what we’re trying to figure out. It’s why we’re here. We’ve been trying to work a case here for quite some time, but we’ve been having trouble making sense of it. Vampires, they tend to group in nests. They only turn victims when they want to expand their colony, but usually the choosing process is at random; it’s anybody they can lure off the street. Vampires in this area have been documented dating back to hundreds of years ago, but there is something rather strange about all the missing person cases that have taken place over this time period: they all branch from the same family tree. Vampires can’t have children, and we’ve never seen them try to keep within a family. None of it adds up. We were hoping if you know anything about this. If there’s anything you can tell us, anything at all.”

 

You stare dumbly back at him, completely overwhelmed by this flood of information. Words are slow to form on your lips.

 

“I, uh, well…I’ve been raised by my Aunt and Uncle ever since my parents died of a car accident… at least that’s what I was told. I was four or five when it happened. I’ve been with them ever since.” The brothers nod, masking the dissatisfaction at your evident ignorance on the situation. When Dean asks if there is any other family you have to go to, you freeze up. You have no one besides your Aunt and Uncle. They never mentioned other family; no grandparents, cousins, no one. They were your only family. And now they’re gone.

 

“I…I… there’s no one else,” your voice shakes despite your attempt to stay steady. “I think… I need to go to the ladies’ room.” And with that you swiftly leave before you completely shatter. After finally mustering the strength to face the brothers without breaking, you head back to the booth, all the while your brain is screaming. _You have no one, you have nothing. Where will you go? What if these hunters want to kill you? What if you’re a monster?_ Upon approaching the table you notice the boys arguing in low but firm voices. You hang back and listen in to their hushed words.

 

“Sam, what the hell are we supposed to do? How is it possible that she has _no_ family?”

 

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I guess if she’s unknowingly part of some freaking vampire mafia family, it’s possible she doesn’t have anyone.”

 

“The kid’s got nowhere to go! What are we gonna do, put her up for adoption?”

 

 “Dean, calm down. We’ll figure something out. But we also need to continue working on this case. If we’re right about this, more people are going to be turned. (y/n) could be on the hit list too. We need to protect her until we sort this out.” Dean clenches his fist, although it’s obvious he knows his brother is right. “We have to go back to the bunker anyways to get supplies and try to find lore on this crap. For the time being… I guess we can take her with us?” This definitely catches your attention. In truth, you don’t feel like going anywhere with these men, but what other choice do you have?

 

“And what if she’s evil, Sam? What if she’s one of—“You choose this moment to emerge from your hiding spot and give a meek smile as you slide into the booth, cutting Dean off. Sam is caught by surprise but quickly slips into an easy-going demeanor. You wonder just how experienced of liars these two are. They tell you the plan of how they’re going to help you and keep you safe until everything is sorted out, and you quietly nod. You decide that, despite their harsh outward appearances, they truly do want to help. They want to protect you. Even so, you still imagine yourself stunt rolling out of the stylish Impala hence anything go awry.

 

By this time everyone is finished with their meals and drinks, and you follow them out to the car, which you truly do admire. Dean flashes a proud smile at your mention of it and mutters something about his “beautiful baby.” He gets in the driver’s seat and you slide in the back, and soon you’re on your way. Sam answers your questions politely on the way there, and you learn a lot. You learn that their father raised them to be hunters. You learn that hunters are scattered all throughout the world, killing monsters and saving people. You learn that your mother and father must have been turned all those years ago, and your Aunt and Uncle must’ve taken you in, shielding you from the truth.

 

With every question you ask, Sam fires back another. Your age, your grade, where you go to school, what type of books you read. He gets you talking about yourself, and they end up learning about you just as much as you learn about them. You realize that you like the Winchester boys. Between Sam’s sweet gestures and protective aura over you and Dean’s humorous but strong character, you begin to feel comfortable and put your trust in their ability to keep you safe. They definitely didn’t seem pleased to learn you are fourteen, even though you added that your birthday was soon. No doubt they had hoped you were a little older, a little closer to being able to go out into the real world by yourself as an adult. You are in the car for hours; you were informed their “secret hideout” was in Kansas, a whole state over. Eventually the conversation trails off and you once again drift to sleep in the back of the Winchesters’ Impala.      

 

You wake to the sound of car doors opening and closing with the realization that you are no longer moving. Before you can even sit up, your door is flung open and a blindfold is being tied around your face. You yelp and begin viciously clawing at the offender when two strong hands grab your arms.

 

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just us, don’t worry. We’re at the bunker; we just have to do this for your own safety,” a familiar voice quickly explains. You huff but calm down and let the hands guide you out of the car. You hear another voice chuckle about my feistiness and how it could be useful. One of them puts a hand on your waist and his other on your arm to keep you steady as you walk. A pang of excitement erupts in you, despite everything that has happened over the past day. It has to be around midnight for how long you have traveled and when the attack took place. After walking for several yards, you hear a key turning in a lock and a heavy door opening. The blindfold is gently taken off of you and you can’t help but gasp.

 

You appear to be on top of a balcony overlooking the expanse of a giant room, a long table placed in the middle and the walls covered floor to ceiling with rows and rows of books. The boys seem pleased with your reaction, and Sam gives you a short tour of the main floor as Dean darts right for the kitchen to grab a case of beer. You’ll _definitely_ have to explore this place more later on. Sam leads you down a hallway with several doors, and pushes one open. Its decent sized, a bed in the middle pushed against the back wall with a simple navy blue comforter. To its side is a nightstand with a lamp, and a small desk and dresser occupy the opposing side walls.

 

“I guess this’ll be your home for the time being,” Sam says, looking down at you sympathetically. You walk inside and gingerly sit on the foot of the bed. A single tear unexpectedly rolls down your cheek. _This is all I have. There’s no one, nothing left._ Sam doesn’t seem surprised at your response. You have barely said anything to him that would give away your emotions, but he has no trouble figuring you out. He sits himself beside you on the bed and twiddles with his hands.          “We’ll have food ready for you in a few minutes. I know you must be hungry.” He smiles and starts to get up, but you reach out and grab his arm. You surprise both him and yourself.

 

“Thank you,” you say firmly, looking him directly in the eye so he knows you mean it. He softens and gives you a tender-hearted squeeze on the shoulder, then leaves you to be alone with your thoughts. You feel extremely grateful to the brothers. They didn’t have to take you in. They don’t have to do any of the things they do. They save people. They’re heroes. A wave of exhaustion rolls over you and you lie on the bed, slowly sorting through everything you know. Even through the confusion and fear and fresh grief at the loss of your Aunt, Uncle, and second loss of your…monster… parents, you accept all this new information about the world more easily than you would ever imagine. Maybe it’s the crazy talking. Maybe it’s the inability to deny any of what you have experienced. You fall asleep to the sound of dishes clanking and laughter coming from the main room. You subconsciously feel someone lifting you and tucking you under blankets. _Safe._

 

:~:~:~:

You wake with the disturbing feeling of being watched, still incredibly high-strung from the past day’s events. You don’t have a weapon anywhere near you, and you aren’t exactly big and strong, so you decide that the element of surprise is your best bet. You count to three and spring out of bed towards the intruder. Dean flinches in surprise and you groan.

 

“You scared me,” you accuse. Dean just smirks.

 

“If you thought I was a monster, what were you planning on doing next?”

 

“Whatever it would take,” you shrug. He shakes his head and laughs to himself. In his hand he twiddles a knife, flipping it around his palms as if it was made out of air. You cock your head at him in question.

 

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just… you remind me of someone.”

 

”Who?”

 

“Me.” With that he spins the knife once more and points it towards you, handle first. “Here, keep this under your pillow if it’ll make you feel better. Just don’t go attacking anyone in your sleep, alright?” You grin and turn the blade over in your hands, then tuck it under your pillow and quickly make your bed. You realize you’re still wearing your school clothes from yesterday, and it dawns on you that everything you own is still back at the house in Nebraska. You force yourself not to recall the memory of what else is still inside your room. Dean catches on to your thoughts.

 

“If you want, one of us can make a stop by the house and pack your things. Or we can try to, uh, shop for you.” The thought of shopping for a teenage girl visibly makes him uncomfortable, which makes you laugh lightly.

 

 “It’s alright. Something tells me you aren’t necessarily paid too well in your line of work, anyways,” you say, your lips curving up. He rolls his eyes.

 

“That’s for damn sure. C’mon. Sam’s probably making breakfast right now. Bathroom’s the third door on the left; I’ll get you some clothes to wear in the meantime.” You nod and follow him out of your new room, memorizing your steps in the hallway to not get lost. He hands you a pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt that smells like gunpowder and wood. After gently closing the door and turning the lock, you look at yourself in the mirror. You appear the same as you always have, but something is different. _You_ are different. The water runs steaming hot, and as you scrub, you scrub away the dead layers. You peel off the old layers of you. Your past life and everything you thought you knew runs down the drain. You recall the last normal conversation you had, the one with Laura. You were stressed over a silly boy. He seems so small and insignificant now.          

 

You step out of the shower and dry off. You feel fresh in more ways than one. You pull on the old gray sweatpants, having to triple roll the waist just for it to barely hang on to your form. The sleeves on the flannel have no hope as you roll and roll them some more, being forced to bunch up the bottom and tie it in a knot so it didn’t act as a dress. You tie your long hair into a ponytail, take one last look at the new you, and leave the bathroom. Immediately the   smell of bacon reaches your nose and leads you to the kitchen where Sam and Dean sit, drinking coffee and talking quietly. Upon your arrival Sam jumps up and smiles.

 

“Hey, (y/n). Did you sleep alright? Here, let me get those for you. Breakfast is on the table.” He takes your bundle of dirty clothes from your hands, eyeing your new apparel in amusement, and disappears down a hallway. You walk into the kitchen and sit down by Dean, who nods to you and takes a sip of coffee, typing away on his laptop.

 

“Did you find anything on the vampires yet?” You ask. He seems mildly surprised at your question, but shakes his head.        

 

“No, not yet, but we’re starting to get an idea. We believe the alpha—all vampires have an alpha vamp that is their ruler— has a peculiar order to how he runs things. All the vamps in the area that we’ve seen so far combined with all the missing cases over the past hundred years all have one thing in common: they have some connection to the ancient Baakshir family, whether it’s by blood or by marriage.” You nod, processing the information.

 

“Does that… does that mean I have a connection with this vampire family?” You take a strip of bacon, surprised by how ravenous you suddenly became. You recognize you never ate dinner last night.

 

“We think there’s a possibility, but we’re not sure. It still doesn’t make sense on how they’re having offspring, considering the dead can’t really reproduce. But don’t worry. We’re going to get this sorted out, just like we always do. And we’re going to take care of you,” he promises. “Nice outfit, by the way.” He smirks. “A little big, but flannel suits you.” You grin, surprised by how comfortable you are around this man. He is a trained killer after all. But something in your gut tells you that it’s okay. It tells you that there’s nowhere safer than in the arms of a Winchester. Sam walks back in the kitchen to grab his coffee and moves into the main room, followed by you and Dean.

 

“So what’s the plan?” you ask cheerily. They both look at you.

 

“Research,” Sam replies. Not exactly what you were expecting, but you can get on board with that. You start to move to one of the many expanses of bookshelves, determined to help.

 

“Wait. No, you aren’t doing anything,” Dean reaches you in two strides and snatches the book out of your hands.

 

“What? Why not? I can help! I’m a straight A student, I’m pretty tech savvy if I do say so myself, and—“

 

“I said you are not doing anything! You will stay away from these books, you will not get into learning about monsters, and you are _not_ doing anything hunter-related, do you hear me?” You wither under Dean’s angry gaze, scared of him for the first time since you met. Your eyes burn, but you will yourself not cry. You aren’t just some weak kid, and you aren’t about to let him think that of you. You see Sam starting towards the two of you, but you continue staring Dean in the face. He’s full of so much anger, so much pain, and so much hate. Hate for you or himself, you aren’t sure. He finally sees the fear in your eyes and backs down, looking away. You curse your bottom lip for trembling as you slowly straighten up and begin to walk back to your bedroom. Sam intercepts you.          

 

“Look, (y/n), it’s not what you think. He’s not mad at you, he’s just frustrated. He—”

 

“Damn right I’m frustrated! If you think for a second I’m going to let her...” Dean’s livid voice trails from the main room. “Who does she remind you of, huh Sammy? Young, hard-headed, family affected by the supernatural at a young age? That’s right, Claire friggin Novak. And I’ll be damned if I let another child become a hunter because of us.” By this point Dean is standing in the hallway with us, fuming. Sam has a protective hand on your shoulder.

 

“Look, I don’t want to be a hunter, alright?” You fire back. “All I know is that my entire world has been flipped apart, and I have nobody left except you two. You guys are trying to solve this case, and apparently I might be a part of it. So if I can help, whether it be with research or whatever, I’m. Helping.” Both of them seem taken aback by your boldness, and so are you. You have never been particularly extroverted, and you’ve never dared talk to someone with such vigor. “You said I reminded you of yourself, Dean. I don’t… I don’t know what the future holds, but all I know is I need to give it everything I have, even if I am just a ‘kid.’ If this does have something to do with me, I need answers. And not just so I can cut some heads off.” Dean opens his mouth to shoot back, but closes it and shakes his head.

 

“Fine,” he says, “but I’m not going to be responsible if you find something you don’t like. And you are not putting yourself in unnecessary danger. Not on my watch.”

 

“Deal,” you reply.  Dean hesitates, nods, and retreats back to the main room. You feel Sam give you a reassuring squeeze where his hand still rests on your shoulder.

 

“Wow, congrats. It’s not every day someone wins an argument with Dean Winchester,” he jokes. You cough out a laugh.

 

“Yeah, I can tell. Now, let’s go do some research on the Baashkir family.”         

 

Hours go by as you and the guys go back and forth between books in the bunker and the internet. You prove yourself quite useful on the computer, able to dig up information fast on the early Baashkir families. You found a family tree in which many missing person cases over the years match up to. By noon, you all uncovered more than you could’ve hoped for. Sam is still working on the exact location, but the Alpha Vampire seemed to be residing somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, though obviously the family itself is quite spread out. Based on facts about the missing persons and the families connected, the three of you formed a theory. For some reason, the Baashkirs seem obsessed with keeping the bloodline. For this particular nest, no one unrelated to them was ever turned. Dating back hundreds of years, it appears that a Baashkir would grow up human, then marry and have a child of their own. After reproducing, the parents before them would turn them into vamps. The new vampires would raise the human children in the life, preparing them to become a vampire too, one day. Then the children would grow up, marry and have kids of their own, and the cycle would continue.

 

“According to this, the family has been thinning. Perhaps it’s because of hunters? Either way, any females directly related would have changed surnames when married. They’d still be part of the nest, but they’d be harder to find. Most of the blood-related men with the actual last name of Baashkir are either dead or unrecorded, except this one.” You gesture to the screen of Dean’s laptop, which you’ve been furiously typing away at for the past hour. They both huddle behind your chair, staring at the face on the screen. “But it’s only ‘Baashkir’, no first name. That must mean this is the alpha. His death was never recorded despite being born over seven hundred years ago.” You look up proudly at the two brothers’ shocked faces. Sam laughs.

 

“Wow, you are _really_ good at this,” he remarks, which earns a deadly glance from Dean, who obviously isn’t too happy about any relation you have to hunting. “What’s your last name again?” Sam asks.

 

“(Y/l/n),” you reply. Sam nods slowly.

 

“So if we _are_ right about this whole vampire bloodline thing and if we’re right about (y/n) being a part of that, then that means she does have a family. They’re just, well vampires.” Suddenly his brows knit together, and you can see the gears grinding in his brain. “Why hasn’t (y/n) been raised in this way if we’re right? Who’s kept her from all of this?” Something clicks in your mind.            

 

“Alison and Rob,” you whisper. You look up at them. “They’re on my dad’s side, my Aunt and Uncle. Maybe…maybe my mom was the one who grew up in the nest. And then she married my dad and had me. Turned my dad. Maybe I _was_ going to be raised that way, but I was just too young to remember. Maybe Aunt Alison and Uncle Rob rescued me, made up the story about the crash, and took me to Nebraska, of all places, to keep me away from it all.” You shudder at the thought of being part of such an evil family, and you don’t want to accept the idea of your parents willingly becoming vampires, but you can’t deny it makes sense. Everything just clicks together.  It would explain Alison and Rob’s overprotective demeanor, wanting to know where you were at all times, constantly checking up on you, and their carefulness about not bringing up family. You feel a swell of gratitude and sadness for your Aunt and Uncle. If you are right, they died trying to save you. Dean is nodding, impressed.

 

“Well, it may not be perfect, but it’s what we got. And it’s sure as hell a good place to start.” He takes a swig of beer and Sam smiles approvingly.

 

“Great job, (y/n). I think you just got us a really good lead.” You beam up at him proudly, honored by their approval and your success in helping out. Dean jumps off the table where he was sitting.

 

“Right, so now we need to get a better idea of where the nest is located and then we can get down to business. But first, who wants lunch?” Dean makes his way to the kitchen, followed by Sam who’s yelling something about Dean’s poor choices of food being unsuitable for a growing kid.

 

You giggle and turn back to your computer, unsure of what to do next. You decide to take a look at the books once more, mildly confident Dean won’t rip one from your hands again. The day the three of you spent together proved to be quite beneficial, and not just because of the leads you all gained in the case. Dean has seemed to ease up on you, though he still holds firm on keeping you from any temptation of being a hunter. His harshness about that topic no longer offends you, though; you realize he does it because, in spite of it all, he cares for you and your safety. Nevertheless, he did seem quite impressed with your work on research with the case, and you feel you’ve gained a new level of respect from him. Your comfortableness with the both of them showed as well, as you have been able to be sassy and talkative right along with them, something you have only ever done with close friends. They seem pleased at your growth, too. You aren’t positive, but you feel that the Winchesters are growing rather attached to you. The thought makes you smile.

 

You rise from your seat and go to the nearest bookshelf, tracing your fingers along the spines of the books, skimming over the titles. Suddenly a whooshing sound, like a rapid flutter of wings, comes from behind you. You spin around on high alert, immediately wishing the knife hiding under your pillow was being held in your hand. A strange man stands only a few feet away from you, seemingly coming out of thin air. And he’s staring directly at you. You hold a book out, your only line of defense.

 

“Stay away from me,” you warn. The man merely tilts his head in confusion, still holding your gaze. At first your brain screams monster, but nothing seems evil about him. He is taller with neatly kept brown hair, slightly darker than your own, with the wisp of a beard on his face. And piercing blue eyes that seem to be staring directly into your soul.

 

“W-who are you? What do you want?” The stranger remains immobilized. You prepare to yell for Dean, but he’s already entering the room, Sam on his heels.

 

“Cas? Where the hell have you been? We’ve been calling you all week!” Dean pulls this ‘Cas’ into a quick hug and Sam does the same.

 

“Hello Dean. Sam. I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve heard your prayers. Things have been hectic up in heaven and I haven’t really had a chance to escape,” the stranger tells the boys in a deep, even tone.

 

“H-heaven?” Your voice is barely audible yet it does the trick to remind everyone of your presence. Immediately all attention is on you and your huddled figure in the corner. You awkwardly lower the book you were using as a weapon. Dean sighs and motions you over, which you reluctantly obey. Cas’ stare bores holes into you, and you suddenly feel silly in Dean’s giant clothes. Sam looks back and forth between you two and chuckles.

“Cas, I think you might have scared our new friend. Why don’t you introduce yourself? This is (y/n) and… she’s helping us on a case.” The new man turns back to you.

 

“My name is Castiel, and I am an angel of the Lord.” Your mouth drops open.             

 

“Heaven and angels? They’re real? They’re all real? I… I always hoped, but…” you stare at Castiel in awe. He definitely wasn’t what you expected, but… an _angel_. “Does that mean…God…?” Castiel nodded.

 

“Yeah, God is real all right,” Dean chimes in. “He prefers to go by Chuck and he can be a bit of a douche, but it’s all good.” You are still staring at Castiel, processing. You have accepted the existence of monsters, but it was still insane to have your struggling faith be confirmed right in front of your eyes. You certainly didn’t expect Dean’s description of the confirmed all-powerful creator. Suddenly, a dark thought passes over you.

 

“So if Heaven is real, then that must mean…Hell? Demons? _The_ Devil?” The brothers both tense up, most notably Sam. You find yourself wondering in amazement just how much these two have been through. And their best friend is an angel. An angel! “Wow…” you mutter, dazed.         

 

“(Y/n), how about you go in the kitchen and eat the sandwich I fixed up for you,” Dean says. You don’t want to leave, but the tone in his voice alerts you that it isn’t a request. You slowly face away from the angel and hobble towards the kitchen, your mind yet again swimming with thousands of questions. The quietness of the bunker makes it all too easy to eavesdrop, and you give into temptation, watching them from behind the wall.

 

Sam observed you leave, but now he averts his attention back to Dean and Cas, who is still obviously confused about your presence. Dean fills him in about everything with the Baashkir family, their apparent family heritage, and how they saved you after catching wind of a vampire attack. Cas takes in the information, his brow furrowing.

 

“I’ve never heard anything like this before,” he says. “I didn’t know vampires would ever even care about that. And what about the child? Where will she go if she has no family?” He looks up at Sam and Dean.

 

“We don’t know,” Dean sighs. “Yet.”

 

“But we’re going to keep her here until we sort this out. We definitely aren’t leaving her until we find out what’s going on. Her life could be in danger.” Sam adds. Cas just nods solemnly, and with that you retreat to you room before you get caught. You gently close your door and sit cross-legged on the bed, lost in thought. What if Sam and Dean don’t want you here? What if you’re just a chore, an obstacle to get over in one of their cases? Homesickness suddenly overtakes you, and you pull your knees to your chest, hiding your head within them. You are unsure of how much time passes when you hear a gentle knock.

 

“Come in,” you call out softly, expecting a Winchester to walk in. You don’t hide your surprise when Castiel opens the door, a kind smile gracing his lips. He holds up a baby blue backpack and drops it next to you on the bed. You are immediately sitting up and trying to make yourself somewhat presentable to the mysterious angel of the Lord. He seems to find it slightly amusing. You gingerly touch the bag, recognizing it as your own. You look up at him quizzically as you unzip it to find several of your outfits (including undergarments, which make you blush madly), a pair of boots and sneakers, a notebook, and your dead cell phone.

 

“Sam and Dean told me everything that happened, and I thought you might enjoy some items from home. I hope I have retrieved everything you need.” You nod, nearly tearing up at the kind gesture. You become aware of the baggy clothes hanging on your frame and are even more immensely grateful.

 

“Thank you, Castiel. It’s perfect.” He continues to study you with those unnerving eyes, and you begin to feel awkward under his gaze.

 

“I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable,” he says, tilting his head. “You’re just, well, special. The boys have never brought anyone to the bunker like this before. And they seem to be quite attached to you in a way I can’t describe. I… I’m sorry about what happened with your family. I apologize you had to find out this way. I know that… that Sam and Dean will do whatever they can to ensure your safety, and... How are you holding up? Are you alright?” The angel seems to be struggling with forming the right words to say. You guess sympathy with humans isn’t one of his talents. His effort makes you deeply appreciative all the same. You find the celestial being’s awkward demeanor rather endearing.          

 

“I…you know what? I am. I’m more than alright,” you say slowly, turning your body to face his. Castiel raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know how to explain it. I… maybe I’m just insane. But with everything that’s happened, I mean… my entire conception of reality is a lie, everyone I love is dead or isn’t who I thought they were. When I first learned the truth, I was certain that I wasn’t really responding because of the shock. I was sure that when it wore off, I would shatter. It would all be too much, and I wouldn’t be able to handle it. But something’s changed inside me. I’m…different. Stronger. My entire life…I was never sure of who I was or who I was destined to be. But somehow, amidst all of this chaos and pain and grief, I’ve… I’ve found myself.” You continue, astonished by the newfound strength you feel building inside of you. Everything is taking a new perspective within you, locking into place with every word you speak.  

 

“I’ve always struggled with the idea of my family and home, but… those things aren’t based on blood or where you rest your head at night. I’m learning that it’s so much more; it’s where you choose to be and who you choose to be with. Everything about my future is so uncertain, but for the first time, I’m ready. I don’t know if destiny is real. I don’t know if it’s laid out in stone, or if it’s your job to choose your own fate. What I do know is that I finally have a purpose. As of right now, Sam and Dean are my family. As of right now, this is my home.  And I know one thing for sure: I never stop fighting for who I love. Even if I am just a little kid.”

 

Castiel takes in your words, watching you intently. When you finish, a weight feels lifted from your chest. You smile timidly at the angel, embarrassed about sharing so much so easily, but he doesn’t seem to care.

 

“You know, (y/n), I was made during the creation of creation itself. And in all of my centuries of existence,” he reaches over and squeezes your knee encouragingly, “I have never encountered someone so young with so much fire and passion for good. Destiny or not, you are bound to do amazing things. Even if you are just a ‘little kid’.” The praise of this deep-voiced angel sends shivers down your spine. He pauses. “I’ve also never met someone who changes emotions so drastically and frequently. Perhaps it’s due to your adolescent hormones.”

 

“Perhaps,” you laugh. The euphoria of opening up to Cas is short-lived, for seconds later your door is kicked open. You and the angel simultaneously jump to your feet at the sight of Sam splattered with blood. A pang of fear grips you like a vise, all bubbly feelings prior vanished.

 

“Sam,” Castiel unsheathes a long silver blade from seemingly nowhere. “What happened?”

 

“Weren’t you guys in the bunker this whole time?” you ask breathlessly, thinking about that knife under your pillow.

 

“Yeah, we were. But somebody followed you home from (y/n)’s house, Cas. I guess the two of you were too busy to hear the commotion. We got an alert that someone was at the door. A vampire,” Sam reports.  He takes note of the horrified expression on your face. “Don’t worry. The blood’s not mine.” Sam darts back out of the room and Castiel swiftly follows with you close behind. Sam spins around on his heels, stopping you in your tracks.             “Oh no, not you, (y/n). You stay in your room. And do not leave.” Sam forces you to back up, his massive frame taking up the space in the hallway and preventing escape. He guides you back to your room despite your pleading. He finally ushers you in and shuts the door. You kick at it in frustration.

 

You’re left alone once again, the angel and the hunter disappearing to who knows where. You don’t even have a clue if anything’s happened to Dean. You like to think Sam would’ve told you if anyone was hurt, but their obsession of shielding you from every hard truth possible deems it unlikely. You fall back on the bed, defeated. Reminding yourself that two trained killers and a soldier of Heaven probably had a better chance of fighting anything without you in being in the way, you give up, although the feeling of being useless refuses to leave.

 

 

_The second the alarm sounded, Sam and Dean were up on their feet, guns raised. Dean silently instructed his brother to take the back door and circle back around using hand signals. He himself quickly and quietly climbed the steps to the main door, and counted to 40. Then he yanked it open, and before the visitor even had time to react, she collapsed into Dean’s arms thanks to Sam knocking her out with the butt of his gun. The two carried the unconscious body inside and down to the dungeon. The whole ordeal was taken care of in less than three minutes. It was then Sam came back to check on (y/n) and Cas, locking the child in her bedroom and leading the angel to where the intruder was being held. A vampire. In a dark room hidden behind file cabinets on the lowest floor of the bunker sat the Baashkir descendant in the middle of the room, chained up and soaked in her own blood, a nasty contusion bulging on her temple from Sam’s blow and fangs protruding from her jaw. After heavy interrogation of the prisoner, the hunters discovered that the monster was checking out the (y/l/n) residence after the vampires they sent to retrieve (y/n) never returned. She then saw Castiel and followed his scent to the bunker. After a bit rougher questioning, the vampire finally gave up the location of the nest: the Olympic National Park in Washington State. Once the brothers were satisfied with their new information, they decided to keep the captive alive a little longer in case they needed more information. She was clearly low-ranking since she was sent to find the potentially dangerous remains of a failed mission, but she could still prove to be more useful. So they locked her up, shutting off the lights and leaving her behind until they would need him again. It was time. It was time to end the reign of the Baakshir family once and for all by cutting the head off the snake: killing the alpha._

Sam, Dean, and Castiel take forever to come retrieve you from your room. The whole time you have been pacing back and forth, imagining different scenarios of their gruesome deaths. The door finally opens and the brothers pop their heads in.

 

“Oh, thank God. I was so worried that something... Is everything okay? What happened?” You ask, following them out into the main room like a puppy.

 

“That doesn’t matter,” Dean replies as he catches a bottle of beer tossed by his brother.

 

“What does matter is we know where the nest is. Good ol’ rainy Washington. We’re heading out bright and early tomorrow morning, and we’re gonna ice these sons of bitches once and for all.” Your original concern of how they attained this information is forgotten with the surge of hope that runs through your veins.        

 

“That’ll take about three days in the car, right? Does that mean we’ll be sleeping in the Impala? Not that I mind, but—“

 

“Slow your roll kid,” Dean cuts you off. “There is no ‘we.’ ‘We’ is me and Sammy. You’re delusional if you think we’re letting you anywhere near those vampire bastards. No, you’re gonna stay here where it’s safe.”

 

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to go with Dean on this one, (y/n). It’s way too dangerous, especially for you,” Sam adds. All your protests and complaints get lodged in your throat. You know they’re right, but you’re still not happy about it. All you can get out is a pathetic whimper.

 

“Am I going to stay here alone while you’re gone?” The three exchange looks; they’ve never had to deal with babysitting before.

 

“Uh, I’ll see if Charlie is nearby. If not…I’m not sure,” Sam sighs and whips out his phone to send a message to whoever Charlie is. You look down and play with my thumbs, nervous. Dean comes over and puts his hand on your shoulder giving you a firm, comforting look.

 

“It’ll be alright, kid. We’ll be back before you know it.”

 

“Good news, Charlie’s only a few states over. She says she can be here Wednesday night,” Sam calls out in relief. “You can last two days by yourself, right (y/n)?” Dean shakes you playfully with his hand still on your shoulder.

 

“See? Everything will work out just fine. Charlie’s a great person, you’ll love her.” You nod meekly, though in truth you’re absolutely terrified of being left by the Winchesters. You have been with at least one of them constantly since they took you in, and you aren’t ready to be separated from them. It makes you realize just how much you’ve come to depend on these people in the past few days. Castiel says his goodbyes and vanishes for the night, promising he will see you again soon. The three of you eat dinner and you reluctantly depart to your bedroom when the evening is over, burdened by the fact that Sam and Dean aren’t going to be there the next morning. You drift off into a restless, dreamless sleep.

 

:~:~:~:

 

You wake to the deafening nose of complete silence throughout the bunker. You groan and rub your eyes, sitting up in the bed. You see a scribbled note on the nightstand in the corner of your eye.

 

_Morning, (y/n). Help yourself to cereal on the counter. Charlie will be there in two evenings. We’ll be back before you know it. Be good. ~Sam and Dean_

A couple days pass by slowly no matter what you do. TV, going through the books, browsing the internet for any suspicious activity in the area where the guys are headed; none of it settles your nerves or boredom. Sam and Dean frequently check in, of course. It’s for the purpose of ensuring you are alright, but you have to admit you feel better every time you hear their voice. The morning comes when you should expect “Charlie” to arrive that night. However, your impatience gets the best of you and you decide to investigate the rest of the bunker to pass time. Sam and Dean’s room right alongside yours (To your embarrassment, Dean has some not-so child friendly magazines laying on his bed) plus multiple more in different hallways, a couple bathrooms. There’s a giant control room with machines and screens that you know better not to fool with. You find a big garage with multiple vehicles and cool motorcycles, which earns an impressed whistle from you. More rooms, an office or two, and lots of storage. You reach a more open room that’s filled with even more files and cabinets. Jars of weird substances catch your eye, but there’s nothing interesting enough to keep you there. With a sigh, you suppose it’s time to make your way back to the main room and maybe call Dean to get an update. You reach your hand to the light switch when…is that…singing?

 

At first you think you’re hearing things. But, no, there it is. It’s so faint you can hardly hear it, but…you know you aren’t alone. The melody is soft and taunting, making your hair stand on end. And it’s coming from somewhere near the storage room. You swallow and take a step toward the sound, which reaches past the far wall. You have been up and down this place, but as far as you know the bunker doesn’t go any longer. All the same, the tune is clearer now; you know you are getting close. You slowly walk past more jars and assorted ingredients, listening intently. The only thing stronger than your confusion is the dread building in your gut with every step.

 

Still puzzled, you’re about to take another route to see if a hallway leads beyond the storage room when something unexpectedly catches your eye. There’s a crack hidden behind the clutter... a door, possibly? You push at the rack blocking it and it glides out of the way easily, sure enough revealing two giant iron sliding doors. _Sam and Dean placed that rack there on purpose,_ it occurs to you. _Whatever is in here… it might not be for your eyes._ Every ounce of your sane mind is screaming for you to stop, to run, to leave this place and never come back. But your curiosity burns stronger and drowns out the voices. You take a deep breath and push open the doors. The once muffled singing now rings with clarity without the solid barrier, echoing in the stone walls. You gasp.

 

There sits a woman in the middle of a stone room covered in chains and blood. She’s tied in a chair behind a metal desk surrounded by some sort of symbol painted on the floor. Her head droops, hair masking her features, but she is undoubtedly the source of the unnerving sounds. She immediately becomes alert of your presence and her head snaps up, grinning at you. Gashes contort her face, courtesy of her captors. She must be how Sam and Dean figured out the nest’s exact location. You quickly choose to not wonder just how much you don’t know about the brothers and their malicious line of work. 

 

“Oh, you must be the famous (y/n),” she giggles, flashing a mouth full of fangs. _Vampire_. You stand frozen by the doorway in horror, which makes her even giddier. “Yes, yes, if you’re here snooping around that means the Winchester boys have already gone out in pursuit of the nest,” she beams. You’re screaming on the inside, but you won’t show this monster fear.

 

“T-that’s right. They’re coming for them. And they’re going to slaughter the whole lot of them, and then they’ll come back and kill you. Those blood suckers will never know what hit them. And how the hell do you know my name?” You do your best to puff your chest out, hoping you appear stronger than you feel. You don’t let it occur to you that the monster in front of you is most likely related to you in some way. The idea makes you queasy. The vampire shrieks in laughter.

 

“Don’t you get it? We’ve been following your scent for years now, waiting for the right moment to bring you home! We knew it the minute those hunters picked you up and we’ve been watching ever since.” Your stomach drops as the realization settles in.

 

“They’re walking right into an ambush,” you whisper in terror. “The vampires… they know Sam and Dean are coming.” The monster’s eyes glint, giddy with insanity, and your stomach does summersaults.       

 

 “Right after our master sucks the life out of your little hunter guardians, he’s coming for you, dear. Very few direct descendants are left. You will become one of us, I promise you that!” You aren’t even listening anymore. Already dashing out of the room, you slam the doors closed to the sound of the monster’s deranged squeals and sprint upstairs to your room, fumbling for your phone.

 

“Come on, come on, come on. Pick up for God’s sake!” _This is Dean’s other, other cell. I’ll call you back when I get the chance._ You yell, throwing the phone on the floor.

 

“Think, (y/n), dammit, think!” Your eyes suddenly widen. You have an idea. Dean had mentioned something about praying to Castiel, right? What if you can reach out to him and tell him to come get you? There is no assurance he will come if he believes you are still whining about not being able to tag along, though. Then it hits you. Quickly, you dress into jeans and pull a dark green jacket over your shirt, shoving your feet into your black combat boots. You slip the knife from under your pillow into your shoe as a second thought. Then you head out into the main room and set your mind into acting mode.

 

“Castiel!” you wail in anguish. “Castiel, please help me! They found the bunker, and they got to me, I’m—“ The angel appears right in front of you, making you yelp in surprise. He has his angel blade out and ready for action as he looks wildly around the room. He shifts his gaze to you, his brow furrowed in confusion, then comprehension.

 

“(y/n), there’s no one here. You… you tricked me…”

 

“I know I did, I’m sorry, but it was my only shot. The boys aren’t answering their phones and… Cas, it’s a trap. I found that… torture room. I talked to the vampire inside.” His face immediately hardens. “The nest is expecting them. They know they’re coming. It’s all a trap, and it’s all my fault. They’re doing this to get to me.” Your face is bright red and you stumble over your words, trying to make Castiel understand. “You have to get me over there. They’re expecting the guys, but I could be bait, or a distraction. I-I can…“ Castiel puts his hand up, cutting you off.

 

“You’re not going anywhere, (y/n). I will get to them before they arrive. We’ll figure something out. But you are staying here!”

 

“Please, Castiel, you need to let me help!” Hot tears now roll angrily down your cheeks. You will never be able to live with yourself if something happens to the Winchesters. “They’re going to kill Sam and Dean! Please!” He scrunches his face, shaking his head at you, muttering something about Charlie being here soon to take care of you. You watch as he takes a final look at you and takes a step back.         

 

“Castiel, wait!” You lunge and grab the sleeve of his trench coat just as he takes off, and in a split second you’re outside in the pouring rain. Washington.

 

_A few minutes after Castiel and (y/n) vanished, a redhead opened the bunker door and cheerfully let herself in. “Hey, (y/n), I’ve been so ready to meet you! Sorry I’m a little late; I wanted to pick up some food for us…Hello?”_

Thunder cracks above you and you whip around, taking in your sudden new surroundings. Castiel glares at you.

 

“Why did you do, that, (y/n)? You can get hurt out here!” Rain pounds down on you, drenching your hair and face. You stare pleadingly into his angry eyes.

 

“Please, Cas, I’ll be fine. Go and find Sam and Dean and tell them what’s going on. It might already be too late,” you beg. He scowls at you, debating his options. He looks about ready to give in when suddenly his eyes widen at something behind you. His mouth starts to form a word of warning, his hand reaching out, but it’s too late. You’re abruptly pulled back by an unseen force, your chin slamming into the pavement. A scream gets caught in your throat as you wildly struggle against your offender. A bag is pulled over your head obstructing your view as you hear Castiel grunt in pain followed by a thud. The last thing you hear is the angel screaming out your name as a hard object is rammed into your skull and everything goes black.

 

:~:~:~:

 

At first, there is darkness; absolute nothingness. Then the pain comes. It’s a dull throbbing at first, rattling your skull. The more consciousness you gain the sharper and more intense it becomes. _Is this what it’s like to die?_ You wonder. The afterlife sure doesn’t seem too inviting. Slowly you increase your awareness, and memories find their way back to you. After a few more moments, you dare to open your eyes. No, you aren’t dead. But you might as well be. After letting your vision adjust to the dark, you rapidly scan your surroundings to find yourself in the middle of a deserted barn filled with abandoned equipment and hay. The sound of rain beating the roof eerily echoes off the walls. Upon trying to stand you realize with a jolt that you’re securely restrained. Your wrists and ankles are tightly bound with thick rope strapped to a chair. A hollow fear floods your entire body and you begin to panic, thrashing against the bindings. The only good this does is send a zap of pain rippling through your head.                                                             “H-hello?” you call out hoarsely. “Please, somebody help me!” A deep chuckle comes from the dark space in front of you. You jerk your head up, wincing.

 

“Ah, she’s finally awake. I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you, Miss (y/n).” A low snap noise follows his voice and instantly overhanging lights flash on. Standing a few feet in front of you is a slender man, almost as tall as Sam. His broad shoulders carry the stranger’s smooth hairless head which grins at you ominously.

 

“W-who are you? What the hell do you want with me?” you spit out angrily, although the rage you speak with is practically nonexistent compared to the fear residing within every fiber of your being. He simply clucks his tongue disapprovingly with that same smile and strolls closer to you. He’s wearing a black and white tailored suit. Everything about him is unexplainably off. He reaches out and lightly traces your jawline with his finger. You immediately jerk against his touch in response, anger boiling.

 

“What are you doing? Who are…?” His soft fingers clutch your chin and roughly pull your head upwards, forcing you to look him in the eyes. The apparent gash on your chin from the impact of being knocked down earlier stings against his grip. His eyes flash into a deep yellow and then return to normal. The pieces connect together. You try pulling your face away but his grasp on you is strong. Inhumanely strong.

 

“You sure don’t know when to quit, girl. But that’s alright. Perhaps that fire will come in handy once you join us.” You are fiercely tugging against the ropes now. You glare daggers at him through your matted hair and grit your teeth.

 

“You’re a vampire! You filthy…”

 

“Now, now, child, is that any way to speak to your ancestor?” You go limp in fear.

 

“You… you’re Baakshir, aren’t you? You’re the alpha.” Your voice barely rises above a whisper. He grins wider at the recognition.

 

“That’s right, little one. Oh, how unfortunate you didn’t come to know me at a much younger age. So tragic that it all had to play out this way. We could have been the best of friends, you and I.” You shudder in disgust, his smooth words gliding through your mind like slithering snakes. “You should have grown up in the nest life. You would be so much more obedient as of now, like your mother. She turned and convinced her husband to do the same shortly after your birth. She did it happily and voluntarily. The same would have come of you, I’m sure, if your thieving relatives hadn’t decided to snoop around and snatch you up.” You glower at him with a burning hatred you didn’t know you were capable of. It disgusts you to know your parents turned out of free will, but part of you still holds on to the idea that it wasn’t their fault. Your mother was brainwashed from the very beginning, and your father was too in love to choose any other path. 

 

“Why didn’t you just kill them and take me back sooner, then?” you retort. You abhor the cool sound of his voice and every mention of your past makes you increasingly queasy, but you figure keeping the monster talking is your best bet. It seems to work. His unnerving grin grows wider with your question, as if it pleases him to have the power of knowing things you don’t. 

 

“It would’ve been too messy, you see. Too many people knew about them in the small town they chose. If we made even one mistake the murders could easily be traced back to us. So instead we’ve been keeping tabs on you. Your entire life since five years old; we’ve watched your every movement. We know everything about you, (y/n). And now it’s time to come back home. To your real family.” The thought of being watched and tracked your entire life nearly sends you into a full on panic attack. You may puke right in his smug face. His neutral smile slightly fades.

 

“Of course the Winchesters arriving was unexpected, and the death of your mother was unfortunate, her being a direct descendant of mine and all. But it was just a minor hiccup, and it was ultimately worth it, because I finally have my hands on you, dear. Besides, the ‘hiccup’ should be dealt with shortly.” _Oh no_. You have been so distracted and caught up with everything going on that you completely forgot about Sam and Dean. They’re still walking right into the vampire ambush, if they haven’t already. You recall the sickening crunch of Castiel’s body hitting the concrete from when you first got kidnapped. The guilt of that being your fault is overwhelming. If he is gone, the hunters are still completely unaware. If they die, it will be blood on your hands.

 

“Please,” you whisper weakly. “T-take me but let them go.” Baashkir raises his eyebrow in apparent distaste. “Taken a liking to hunters, have you now? Enough to sacrifice your life for theirs? Interesting. Oh, no matter. Soon enough you will join the nest with open arms. I _was_ going to let you mature more as a human since you will be in the prime of your years soon enough. But desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose.” He smirks, his expression suddenly going dark…hungry. He bends down over you, his lips hovering under your jaw. You turn your head as far as possible away from him in revulsion. He inhales your scent and sighs into your neck.                                                                  

 

“I can hear your heart beating, (y/n). I can smell the blood pumping inside of you,” he whispers. Hot tears are freely sliding down your cheeks now, fear and repulsion radiating off of you. He steps back from you only enough to pull a small knife from inside of his jacket. He makes a small but deep cut on his wrist. Glistening blood immediately bubbles to the surface. You squeal and struggle against the ropes like never before. You ram your head into his once he gets close enough, and anger flashes across his features. He abruptly backhands you across the face and you yelp in pain, but don’t give up. You’d rather die than accept what Baakshir intends to do with you. He becomes increasingly impatient with your unwillingness to comply, his eyes narrowed in fury. He flashes you an evil smile, his fangs unsheathing from his gums, and he smashes his heel down on your knee without warning.

 

You shriek in agony at the shearing heat coming off your leg. He chooses your moment of weakness to grip your jaw so tight you think it might shatter. He holds his wrist above your mouth and his infected blood slides down your throat. He finally releases you, smirking darkly. You spit the dark fluid in his face and whimper at the pain. “Stop fighting, (y/n).” He is eerily calm now. “It’s over. Soon you can join your real family.” A wave of dizziness and nausea sweeps over you, and for the second time today, everything goes black.

 

_Castiel woke up coughing blood, lying face down on pavement and sopping from the rain. He immediately stumbled to his feet, calling out your name. You and the hooded figure that sneaked up on you were nowhere in sight. He realized he still had to find the Winchesters and warn them of the ambush. They were your only hope at being saved. He had no way to tell how long he’d been unconscious, but hopefully it wasn’t too late. Hopefully Sam and Dean hadn’t attacked yet, and hopefully there was still time to rescue you._

_By some miracle, Castiel reached the hunters mere minutes before they were ready to go in to the abandoned warehouse that the vampire in the Men of Letters dungeon had informed them of. Sam and Dean immediately ran over to their friend who told them everything. The vampires knew of their presence and you were gone. The news of your capture affected the Winchesters much more heavily than the news of their almost suicide mission. They decided that, even if the vamps were expecting them, they’d go in and give it everything they had if it meant saving you. Castiel grimly agreed to accompany the boys, as he saw it his fault that you were in danger in the first place. Sam retrieved machetes from the car trunk and Dean prepared the Colt, a gun powerful to kill almost anything, as Cas unsheathed his angel blade from his sleeve. The three nodded solemnly to each other. If saving you was the end of them, at least they would go down together._

 

Heat courses through your veins, your head throbbing even more fiercely than before. You can feel the changes taking place inside you, the vampire blood poisoning your own. The process is long and absolutely excruciating. It feels as though your insides have been lit on fire. It doesn’t help that Baakshir crushed your kneecap, rendering your leg useless. Not that you need it; you’re still tied tightly to the metal chair. You moan in pain and fear, hopelessness and uselessness. You pray that the pain will take you before the vampirism does, that you may be blessed with the sweetness death instead of this eternal damning fate.

 

The whole time _he_ is there, observing you in amusement. Earlier he had taken some blood from your wrist and drawn some kind of symbol on a near wall, “just in case.” You have no idea what it is, but it reminds you of Sam, Dean, and Castiel. You imagine them imprisoned somewhere, screaming in agony because of you. All because you were stupid and reckless and they just _had_ to save you that afternoon.

 

It all ended up having the same outcome, anyways. You are becoming a vampire with or without their previous heroic attempts. They need to just save themselves, and you truly desire they choose to do so. You can already feel the disease taking over your body. It’s rewiring your brain, your emotions, and your…hunger. A dull ache pounds on your gums and fills your stomach along with every other ounce of your body. You just want it to end… another heavy surge of nausea and agony overtakes you and starts to pull you under. You embrace the incoming unconsciousness and plead it to take the pain away. You just need the pain to…

 

“(Y/N)!” A voice calls out to you through the fog. It’s familiar and comforting. _Perhaps it’s Uncle Rob welcoming you from Heaven_ , you think drowsily. Another gush of sharp pain wakes you up a little, and your eyes slowly go into focus.

 

“(Y/N)?!” The voice calls again. It’s a little sharper and clearer this time. You struggle to see through the fogginess of your mind. The heat flowing through your veins is intoxicating. A sudden crash pulls you out of the blurriness and you regain awareness of your surroundings, although the pain isn’t lessened. You can make out three figures in the barn doorway. Hope floods your system, then quickly hollows out to dread.

 

“No,” you raspingly cry, too weak for anyone to hear. Your voice sounds foreign and unfamiliar on your dry lips.

 

“Hey, assbutt,” you hear someone say. _Castiel?_

“If you’re here, that means you’ve fought through a great number of my family,” a voice calls out from behind you. “But no worries, I’m prepared. Say goodbye, angel.” You watch helplessly as Baakshir lunges for the symbol on the wall drawn out in your blood. A blinding flash of light fills the barn and suddenly there are two figures instead of three.

 

“Cas,” you mumble through your delusions. The alpha laughs wickedly.

 

“Do you boys really think you can defeat me? How sweet.” He merely flicks his hand and both hunters go soaring into the wall with a sickening crunch, their weapons flying out of their hands. _No_ … You smell blood. Every molecule of it. And you want it bad. Baakshir keeps his hand raised, pinning the Winchesters against the wall. Sam cries out in pain, which sharpens your senses and pulls you out of the dizzying agony just enough to watch in horror. Baakshir casually walks in front of the boys and grins. Sam spits out blood.

 

“Why are you doing this, you douche? Huh?” Dean yells. As bold as ever, even in the face of death. “What makes you so obsessed with keeping your damn bloodline?” The alpha simply smiles in amusement.

 

“Blood is…special. It’s sacred. It’s the lifeline of vampires. It’s pure. Its importance always had a truer meaning for me. Blood means family, you see. I’ve always only ever desired to keep my family pure and strong.” He pauses and tilts his head. “Blood also stands for sacrifice. Many in my nest have died today because of you hunters. Ultimately worth it in the end, since I have gained one of my true granddaughters. But someone needs to pay for the precious blood that has been spilt. And I don’t plan on making it quick, either.”

 

The pressure in your head is even worse now, and you can feel the final stages of your turning happening. The dull, throbbing hunger is quickly growing in the base of your stomach. Fangs are starting to jut out from your mouth. They break the gums and you taste your own blood, which makes you even wilder. There’s only one thing more pressing on your mind than your newest desires and sensations: Sam and Dean Winchester hopelessly accepting their fate only a few yards in front of you.

 

Baakshir stopped paying attention to you a while ago, his entire focus on making the hunters squirm. You shift in your chair, resulting in something to sharply poke your ankle. Memories flash in your muddled mind. Dean giving you the knife, you slipping it under your pillow, then you hiding it in your boot. If you can reach the knife, you realize, you can cut yourself out of the ropes. You already can’t think straight, but the stabbing pain that shoots down your leg when you move your foot helps wake you up a little.

 

In front of you the scene still plays out. Baakshir makes a show of slightly closing his fist which makes Sam and Dean gasp for air. The sight angers you. In doing so, it sharpens your senses further and gives you one last dying determination: do whatever you can to save the Winchesters. With a newfound clarity, you push through the pain and manage to lift your foot just enough to barely grab the handle with your fingertips. Another wave weakens you, but the shred of humanity left in you is still unwavering. You saw through the rope on your hands and free them, clumsily moving on to your legs. Baakshir is laughing and drawing out their deaths as slowly as possible. His hand tightens into a fist ever more, and the hunters gasp out in anguish.

 

Your fangs are fully extended now, the pain dulling only in your veins; the sharpness of your head and crippled leg plus the insane feeling in your stomach is still very much pronounced.  You are delirious, completely mad in your mission. Nobody has even noticed you being freed yet. Slowly you stand up, nearly falling over in the process. You clutch on to a nearby hay fork for support to replace your bad leg. A gun, Dean’s gun, comes into your line of sight. It must have slid across the floor from him hitting the wall. _The colt. Didn’t Dean tell me that thing kills everything?_

 

In your last moments of strength you hobble over to the gun, every fiber of your being on fire. Time passes in slow motion. Every step you take, the gun seems to slip farther away.  Fangs are digging into your lips, drawing more blood. You can smell every drop; it’s not even human anymore. You bend down using the fork as balance and pick up the colt, turning to the Alpha Vampire who still has his back to you. The life is nearly out of Sam and Dean; nearly out of you. You can see it in their eyes, you can smell the death in their lungs. A gunshot rings throughout the barn. Sam and Dean heave and splatter on the floor, clutching their throats, the force holding them down suddenly gone.

 

Baakshir turns around and stares with wide eyes in shock at the hole where his heart should be. The bullet went clean through. His eyes lock with yours as his lifeless body falls to the floor. You pant heavily, still holding the firearm up in your shaky hand, still not fully processing. You keep awake long enough to see the Winchesters running towards you.

 

“Thank you.” You fall to your knees and the colt clatters at your side. You’re so…so hungry. The last thing you hear is a muffled “She hasn’t fed yet, there’s still time,” and the sensation of being held. Then you collapse and tumble into the unconsciousness you’ve been looking forward to the entire time. You eagerly are swept away with the darkness, taking away all the pain and awareness. You’re ready to let go, anyways. You’ve done it. You helped Sam and Dean. You can be at peace.

 

:~:~:~:

 

You faintly recall being woken up just enough to drink a chunky red substance that makes you gag. Two worried voices crooning over you, telling you you’re going to be okay. That it’ll all be over soon. Through your scrambled state you can feel something happening inside you. The fangs cutting your mouth retract and disappear. The fire in your blood cools and numbs. Your heart begins to beat again. Sleep is more peaceful now, less painful.

 

“Why the hell is she still knocked out? The cure worked on me, so why isn’t it working on her?”

 

“Dean, calm down. Look, she has a pulse now. And don’t you see the lump on the back of her head? She probably has a concussion. Just wait a few more minutes.” The soft voices gradually reach you from the thick weight of your mind and lull you into consciousness. You groan weakly as you come to, which sends the attention completely back to you once more.

 

“Hey, (y/n). Welcome back,” a relieved voice says as you try to sit up, wincing at the throbbing at the back of your head. It hurts but it’s bearable next to what you just experienced. A hand slides up your back and helps you sit up slowly, making sure you don’t move your injured leg. Sam watches you curiously as you defog your mind and process everything. You rake your tongue over your teeth and find no hint of fangs. You let out a giddy cry and pull Sam into a rough hug, burying your nose in the crook of his chest. He smells of wood and fire and safety and there’s nowhere you’d rather be than tightly secured in his arms.

 

“(y/n),” a voice calls out, and you pull away from Sam just enough to reach your arms out for the older brother. He gladly kneels to the ground to embrace you.

 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his chest.   “For everything.” You feel the vibrations of his chest as he chuckles.

 

“Are you kidding? You just completely saved our asses back there. You were a freaking vampire with a dead leg and you rescued us. How did you even know the colt was going to work?”

 

“I didn’t,” you admit. “You said it killed almost anything. I just banked on an Alpha being one of them.”

 

“Well, regardless, nice shot!”

 

“…I was aiming for the head,” you confess with a tired smile. The symbol on the wall catches your eye. “What did he do to Cas? Is he alright?” Sam nods in amusement.

 

“After everything you just went through and you’re still worrying about us. Interesting. Yes, Cas is fine; that spell only relocated him somewhere else. He should be finding us any minute now.”        

 

“I’m so sorry you guys; it was stupid of me to come. I understand if you’re angry at me.” You hang your head in guilt, but Dean only grins.

 

“If it wasn’t for you we would have never known the nest was expecting us. If it wasn’t for you, Lord Alpha Dickwad would’ve squeezed the life out of us. You did good, (y/n). You did good.” He claps your back gently, his expression full of pride. You nod in relief, suppressing a smile.

 

“So…what now?”

 

“We get out of here,” Sam replies, rising to his feet and scooping you in his arms as if you weight nothing. To your relief he is extra careful about not irritating your leg.

 

“And we keep on going,” Dean adds, collecting his duffel bag and securing the colt in the waistbands of his jeans. You clutch to the fabric of the hunter’s jacket and take in his warmth. Despite everything, the happiness that overwhelms you rises overtakes your discomforts. You never want to let go.

                       

:~:~:~:

 

The Impala flies down the road, the mood light and cheerful. Much to Dean’s delight, you loudly sing along to the songs he has blasting on the radio. He belts out the lyrics with you, using his hand to keep the beat on the steering wheel. Sam has sacrificed his spot for you in the car and makes a show of rolling his eyes at you and Dean from the backseat, though you can see the happiness shining through his annoyed expression. You and the Winchesters are on the last stretch of the long journey back to the bunker.

 

Castiel had reunited with you in one of the dirty motel rooms in which you were, to your embarrassment, forced to share the bed with Sam due to their only being two beds a room. With your permission, the angel had gently pressed two fingers to your forehead, emitting a soft white glow and mending your injuries. You sighed at the immediately clearing of your mind and relief of pain in your leg. You made him leave the scar on your knee, though. You want to remember it. Cas accompanied the three of you back to the bunker where you gathered your belongings and cleared out your room, your most recent home. The boys helped you pack, and the whole experience was wonderfully bittersweet.

 

You never found out what exactly happened to the vampire being held downstairs, although the muffled screams echoing all the way from the dungeon gave you a vague idea. Castiel had made a final goodbye to you, promising to see you again one day. He had once more intensely held your gaze, but for the first time it didn’t make you uncomfortable. It made you feel loved. 

 

Upon Sam and Dean’s request, Cas retrieved the bodies of your Aunt and Uncle from your old home, and the boys made them a proper hunter’s funeral out by a lake in respect for their protection of you. You had helped them pick out sticks to make the huge wooden platform, and Dean let you do the honors of tossing the lighter in. You all watched the flames go up in silence, the brothers standing protectively by your side. Swells of grief and gratitude had filled you, but it didn’t weigh you down like you expected it would. The tears and the ashes set you free.     

 

Now you are singing with Dean to rock music and heading North down a long stretch of road. The brothers have decided to put you with a woman named Jody Mills and two girls around your age she also took in. You’re incredibly nervous, but the brothers keep reassuring you about Jody’s enthusiasm to help you and what an amazing person she is. You don’t want to think about leaving the Winchesters, so you force yourself to stay in the bliss of the moment: just you, Sam, Dean, the Impala, and the open road ahead of you. All too soon, Dean pulls up to a decent sized cabin house on the edge of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The whole drive only took five hours.

 

The brothers file out of the car, and Dean comes around front to open the door for you. You stand up on shaky legs and force yourself to walk. A middle aged-woman wearing a sheriff uniform appears from the front door of the house and eagerly comes down to the car.

 

“Jody!” Dean exclaims with a pleased laugh, and the hunters give her a hug.

 

“Sam, Dean,” Jody acknowledges. “Glad to see you both in one piece. It’s good to see you again, boys.” She smiles warmly and turns to you. “And this must be (y/n)!  I’m so happy to finally meet you. I promise I’ll take good care of you.” Her warm demeanor makes you instantly melt, helping loosen your nerves. You give her a nervous hello and she takes your bags for you. She eyes Sam and Dean.

 

“You guys want to stay for dinner? I’m making hamburgers.”

 

“We really would, but we have a lot to do. Definitely next time,” Sam politely declines. It dawns on you that you are truly being separated from the two now. Jody is waiting for you to walk to the house, your bag slung over her shoulder. Two bricks are strapped to your feet and you struggle to move, but you force yourself to inch towards her anyways. Sam and Dean are leaning against the trunk of the Impala, watching you go, a touch of sadness in their eyes. You catch a glimpse of two unfamiliar faces examining you from a front window. One has a round face with curly blonde hair, the other boasting sharp features and brown hair framing her face in waves, much like your own. They must be Claire and Alex. You flash a timid smile but the faces disappear behind the curtains at being caught. Jody steps up on the porch, expecting you to follow, but you turn around once more.

 

Then you are sprinting across the yard, your hair whipping behind you. You jump and tackle the brothers, one of your arms wrapping around each of their necks. Both are caught by surprise and have to lean into the car to regain their balance, but they graciously return your embrace, each wrapping their arms around you in a safe cocoon.

 

“We’re gonna miss you, (y/n),” Sam announces tenderly. “We’ve gotten used to having you by our side. You make a great addition to the team.” His praise fills you with warmth. You turn your attention to Dean.

 

“Sam’s right, (y/n). I think you research even better than he does. Not to mention your aim with a gun is ten times better than when little Sammy first started practicing. Kid didn’t even know where the trigger was.” This earns a playful scowl from the younger brother. “We are gonna miss you, kid.” Dean says, and the look in his eyes makes you believe it.

 

“You’re safe here. You can go to school, make friends, and continue on in life. It may not seem like it now, but you’ll come to love the girls. They’re really something special, and so are you,” Sam explains, ruffling your hair. The mention of Jody and the girls makes you turn to the house, where you find Jody waiting patiently on the porch and two heads once again occupying one of the windows. You glance up anxiously at Dean.

 

“What if Claire and Alex don’t like me? What if we don’t get along?” Dean’s mouth twitches and he bends down to eye level, his hands on your shoulders.

 

“Listen to me, (y/n). Jody Mills had her husband and children killed by vampires. We rescued Alex from literally living in a vampire nest, brainwashed into thinking they were her family. Claire Novak had her own…personal experience with the supernatural that included her family when she was younger, and it too affected the rest of her life. They both know exactly what you’re going through, and they’re about the same age as you. You’ll get along just fine,” he firmly promises. You can’t deny it makes you feel less like a freak with Jody Claire and Alex having their own experiences with the unexplainable.

 

You nod and fight tears, giving both of them individual, longing looks.

 

“I’ll miss you too,” you whisper, giving both of them one last separate hug.

 

“Take care (y/n),” Sam says, smiling down at you. You nod, take a deep breath, and head back towards Jody. Towards your official new life. The sheriff beams at you and puts her arm around your shoulder, leading you inside. The Winchesters don’t leave until you’re safely indoors, and even then they linger for a few more moments. You hear the engine turn on and pull out of the driveway as you shyly introduce yourself to the girls. Over dinner you get a glimpse of the special bond the three have; different people, different backstories, different experiences, but united all the same. Perhaps one day you too can be a part of something so special. They laugh and share stories and argue light-heartedly with one another. They ask you easy questions, avoiding the hard stuff but still easing you into talking about yourself.

 

The only time you falter is when Claire asks what your last name is. You pause, considering the simple question. There’s no way you’re last name is going to be a Baakshir; you can’t care less about the blood relations. The only ties you had to (y/l/n) recently went up in smoke.

 

“Winchester,” you suddenly decide, surprising yourself. The three exchange glances with raised eyebrows, but accept it all the same. Jody passes you mashed potatoes and makes eye contact with you.       

 

 “Welcome to the family, (y/n) Winchester.”

 

Settling into life in Sioux Falls is much easier than you could have hoped for. You slide back into the routine of high school, though insignificant things that used to constantly worry you don’t bother you anymore. You develop unique but equally as important individual relationships with Alex and Claire through similar character traits and meaningful conversations. You’re ecstatic whenever you get into a fight with one of them because of the normal sisterly behaviors the arguments stem from. The process is slow at first, but you come to love and be loved by your new family. Sam and Dean come and check in every once and a while, much more often than they used to according to Claire, and Castiel makes some appearances of his own.

 

You don’t know what the future holds. You never have. What you do know is that whatever does happen, you’re ready to take on the world. But, if you can’t, there’s no worry there. You’ll just hit up the Winchesters. They’ll take care of it for you!

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, you made it all the way through? Awesome! Please don't hesitate to give me positive or constructive feedback so I can be the best writer possible. Thanks again! :)


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